


Much More Than 7 Pounds

by ArtofDeduction



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fat fetish, M/M, Pining, Post-Reichenbach, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtofDeduction/pseuds/ArtofDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock returns from the dead to find that John is not only engaged to be married, but that Mary and her cooking has turned John into a blimp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much More Than 7 Pounds

Sherlock was at the Holmes manor for less than an hour before he desired to leave. The gaudy décor was disagreeable, his company even more so. Mycroft insisted on lecturing him like he was a child, berating him on how he finished his mission, and all the cover-ups that would have to be done. It had been a quick, logical solution, and Sherlock did not regret a thing. 

Mycroft, sitting in his pristine leather armchair wasn’t the one who had to do the legwork. In fact, Mycroft’s very frame seemed to reflect this, his well-cut suit doing nothing to hide a fifteen pound gain from Sherlock’s well trained gaze. Sherlock was about to comment on this, when Mycroft mentioned John.

“You will want to know the state of your doctor, I imagine.”, Mycroft said, grabbing a yellow folder.

“I think I’d rather see John for myself, seeing as the night’s still young”, Sherlock replied, rising from his chair.

“Very keen, aren’t you, brother? I wouldn’t go so soon, seeing as you don’t even know where John is.”

“Baker Street of course. If he’s out, he’ll be back.”

“It’s been two years, he’s rarely there any more. Lucky for you though, close surveillance has been kept on him, and I can tell you exactly where he is tonight.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m going to warn you first that John has changed. He has moved on with his life. He is engaged to a Ms. Mary Morstan, and has gained quite a bit of weight.”

Sherlock fought to keep his face neutral, taking in what Mycroft just said. In his mind he had imagined John just as he had been before, at home waiting in 221B. His being engaged was bothersome. 

Time and time again John’s girlfriends had left him on their own, unable to cope with John’s division of time between them, which always drifted rightfully in Sherlock’s favor. 

John having a fiancé shouldn’t be any different, he reasoned. John wasn’t married yet, with all its constraining familial obligations, and what was domestic life with some dull woman compared to solving cases with him? He couldn’t be replaced so easily in John’s life. As for the weight-

“He’s gained what, seven pounds, seven and a half? He won’t have gotten nearly as fat as you have.”

Mycroft smirked, amusement coloring his gaze. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

***

Sherlock took a cab to the restaurant, a posh, classy establishment that couldn’t be more dissimilar to the many takeaway places Sherlock and John had frequented. Sherlock wore a simple disguise consisting of glasses and a generous amount of hair gel.

Sherlock scanned the busy restaurant for John, his breath catching when he caught sight of him. He was not hard to miss.

John had evidently been doing a lot of eating these past two years, his formerly fit, tidy physique now past any descriptor other than fat. He would never be able to make fun of Mycroft gaining weight again, Sherlock thought regretfully. 

John took up past the modest sized chair he was sitting on, plump ass hanging off the sides. His thick legs were spread wide to make room for his now ample belly, which dipped between them. He had clearly not eaten yet, but his gut still looked distended, the rounded mass clearly visible under his tucked dress shirt. The restaurant was cold, chilly to Sherlock in his suit, but John’s own suit jacket rested on the back of his chair, showing how much his added mass must warm him. 

There was no denying that John had enjoyed eating, he always relished the food from the restaurants and takeaway places they visited, but to let himself go to this extent? John was ex-military and had retained some habitual discipline after his service. He had gone on runs regularly and did pushups to maintain a basic level of fitness. It just didn’t make sense for him to have gotten this fat. Sherlock needed more data.

Sherlock’s eyes drifted reluctantly to the blonde across from John, who was fiddling with her purse. She was thin and petite, sitting in stark contrast to John’s corpulence. Sherlock figured she must be the fiancé, Meradith, or Morgan, or something. 

Sherlock watched as a young waiter stopped to take the couple’s order, slightly obscuring his view as he paced around the table. The grating man was anxious for his shift to be over. From his hiding spot, Sherlock could hardly hear what was being said, only catching a few words. The woman appeared to be doing the ordering for both of them, John only opening his mouth to add a word here and there. The blonde woman finished speaking and smiled. The waiter nodded at her and left, still scribbling in his notepad. 

John turned to his partner, saying something that sounded like “bit much”, and the blonde woman smirked. Sherlock assumed he must be talking about the price, as this was a rather pricy restaurant. Perhaps he would pay the bill to win John’s favor.

The blonde woman grabbed her bag, patting John twice on the belly before heading to the loo. Sherlock’s eye’s widened. The woman definitely had fetish then. She must have had a hand in fattening John up.

With his fiancé gone, John sat at the table alone, sipping at his glass of red wine. This was the time, he had to approach John now, before she returned. Sherlock slipped from his hiding spot, and started walking towards John. He felt nerves bubble within him, useless as they were. After three years, he was finally going to see John face to face.

He took a deep breath and stepped in the front of the table. John had been looking in the opposite direction and didn’t see him arrive.

“Hello, John.”, Sherlock greeted. John simply stared back at him, eyes wide in shock as if he had seen a ghost. Which to be fair, was akin to what he was experiencing. 

John finally spoke, confusion still spilling across his face. “You were dead. You fell of a building “, he said quietly. He looked at his drink and back up at Sherlock, as if he were a mirage that could disappear at any moment. 

“Evidently not. You only thought you saw me fall. I faked my death, as was necessary to beat Moriarty. I can tell you just how I did i-“

“No.”, John interrupted, taking a deep breath before meeting Sherlock evenly in the eyes. “You think you can just waltz in here, and tell me you were alive this whole time? I buried you, Sherlock! This wasn’t just some game to me as it clearly was to you.”

“I’m telling you it was necessary!. If you’ll just let me explain-“

“Did you even care for my feelings in this at all?! Ever thinking of sending a post card to inform me you were alive?”

“I couldn’t do that, far too risky”

“You’re Sherlock bloody Holmes, you could have found a way!”

A waiter approached the table. “Could you quiet it down please.”, he said. Sherlock and John took no notice of him.

“It was imperative to the plan that you not know! I had to dispose of Moriarty’s expansive network, none of which could know I was alive. If you somehow let on that I was alive it would have all been for nothing.”

“I have suffered for years for the death of a man who never even trusted me”, John said, shaking his head.

“I trusted you more than anyone. You could have suffered a great deal more had I been found out. You finally found a fiancé, Meradith, and it looks like you effectively replaced your need for danger with a need for copious amounts of food.”

John stood up then, throwing a meaty fist to Sherlock’s face. It was a hard punch, sending Sherlock to the floor and a sharp pain blossoming is his nose. He licked his lips, a taste of metallic lingering on his tongue. His nose was bleeding. 

John was looking down at him from where he was standing, a look of contempt on his face. “Her name is Mary.”


End file.
